


Puzzle Pieces

by paperstorm



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Fluff, London era, M/M, fetus 5sos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-09 02:55:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4331112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperstorm/pseuds/paperstorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bit of pointless fluff based of <a href="http://tattoooedheartss.tumblr.com/post/123750261623/when-everyones-asleep-on-the-tour-bus-luke-would">this</a> text post that gave me feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Puzzle Pieces

A soft noise wakes Michael up, but only half. He’s still being pulled down into sleep by his tired body, when he hears it again. Small and quiet, like a cough. He struggles to open his eyes, feeling the presence of someone standing next to his bed before he sees it.  
   
“Who?” Michael asks groggily. It doesn’t make sense, but he’s not with it enough yet to get out the rest of the intended sentence.  
   
There’s silence for a moment, and if Michael weren’t still mostly asleep he might be worried it’s an axe murderer or something, who somehow snuck onto the bus and has been waiting for the opportune moment to sneak up on them in their slumber and cut them to streamers.  
   
“Are you awake?” It’s barely a whisper, a ghost of breath, but Michael can tell who it came from.  
   
“No. Why are you?”  
   
“S’cold. I’m cold.” Luke moves in just a little closer, and he touches Michael’s arm with hesitant fingertips.  
   
“There’s extra blankets in that – thing. The cupboard thing.” Michael’s eyes fall closed again and he pushes his face into the pillow.  
   
“Oh.” Luke pauses, and then he turns and starts to go. “Okay.”  
   
He sniffles, and somehow the tiny sound penetrates through Michael’s sleep-haze and knocks him awake for real. He blinks, frowning as he realizes something further is happening, and pushes himself up to one elbow. He reaches out, catching Luke’s thin wrist in his hand and tugging gently. “Wait. What’s wrong?”  
   
Luke turns back, and in the darkness Michael can just barely make out the shine of tears on his face. He shakes his head instead of answering.  
   
“Lukey,” Michael pushes, using a nickname he mostly doesn’t anymore. He squeezes Luke’s wrist gently.  
   
“Can I get in with you?” Luke asks, voice wavering pitifully, like he’s honestly worried Michael might say no.  
   
Michael just moves, shifting back toward the wall, and lifting the covers to invite Luke to join him. Luke climbs in, and his skin is cold, so Michael tucks the blankets tight around his small body.  
   
“What happened?”  
   
“Nothing happened.” Luke’s turn to press his face into the pillow, ashamed of it.  
   
Michael presses his lips together and wipes the tears on Luke’s cheek away with the pad of his thumb. “Please tell me?”  
   
Luke shakes his head again and crumbles a little, dissolving into soft sobs that make his shoulders shake.  
   
“Fuck,” Michael swears, wrapping his arms around Luke and pulling him in, holding him tight. Luke hugs back, his hands making fists in the material of Michael’s t-shirt, his face pressed into Michael’s neck. Tears dampen Michael’s skin, the big, fat, sad kind, and emotion tugs at Michael’s heart as he holds his best friend and tries desperately to think of something –  _anything_  – to say that might help. “It’s okay, Luke. I got you. I’m right here.”  
   
It’s so stupid, because of course he’s here. Luke is literally touching him, he doesn’t need to be reminded of Michael’s presence like there’s a chance he forgot.  
   
“I … I’m …” Luke struggles with the words, and Michael rubs his back and waits. Finally he manages to choke out, “I m-miss ho-ome.”  
   
Michael closes his eyes and runs his nose through Luke’s hair. He can’t fix this, if that’s the problem. “I do too.”  
   
“I miss my mum,” Luke continues, sobs breaking his voice up into choppy pieces. “I m-miss my dog. I wanna g-go home.”  
   
“Shh,” Michael soothes. “It’s okay.”  
   
“What if I c-can’t do this? What if I never stop missing them?”  
   
“It’s okay to miss them. I miss my family too.”  
   
“We’re supposed to be rock stars.” Luke sounds heartbroken. “W-what if I’m not cut out for it?”  
   
“You are,” Michael promises. He scratches his fingers through Luke’s hair to calm him. It used to work, a year ago when they were just two dumb kids with dreams so big they could only ever admit them to each other for fear they might not come true if spoken out loud. “You’re amazing, Luke. The band is amazing. We’re gonna do so many awesome things, just wait and see. We’re gonna take over the world, you and me. Just like we always wanted.”  
   
“Michael?” Ashton’s voice asks, from above and to the left. “What’s going on?”  
   
“Nothing,” Michael answers, raising his voice from the way he’d been murmuring to Luke, so Ashton can hear. “Everything’s fine, go back to sleep.”  
   
Luke tries to stifle his tears, and instead just ends up gasping for shuddering breaths that make him hiccup.  
   
“Is Luke sick?” Ashton presses, just as Calum, from the right, sleepily mumbles, “Wass happenin’?”  
   
“No, he’s fine. Go back to sleep,” Michael repeats.  
   
There’s shuffling, the sound of Ashton climbing from his bunk and jumping lightly to the floor, and then he’s pulling back the curtain of Michael’s and peering in with his forehead twisted into a frown. Luke whimpers unhappily and shrinks in Michael’s arms, hiding against Michael’s neck.  
   
“Luke?” Ashton says, quiet and sympathetic. Wanting to understand, to help if he can. Ashton is like that. Always taking care of them all.  
   
Michael tries to plead with his eyes. “Ash.”  
   
Ashton meets Michael’s gaze and receives the message. He tugs the curtain closed again and leaves them alone.  
   
“Somebody sick?” Calum’s voice asks.  
   
“Everybody’s fine,” Ashton answers. He climbs back into his bed, Michael can picture it as he listens, and a minute later the soft whistling of Calum’s even breathing fills the dull silence.  
   
“They’re gonna think I’m so stupid,” Luke mumbles.  
   
“No they won’t,” Michael reassures. “They love you. I love you.”  
   
“Love you too,” Luke breathes. He isn’t crying so hard anymore. Even so, Michael doesn’t let go. “Can I …”  
   
“Stay as long as you want,” Michael answers, not needing Luke to voice the entire question out loud.  
   
Luke nods, and lets out a shaky sigh. “Sorry.”  
   
“Stop,” Michael soothes. He loves having Luke against him like this. He could do without the tears, because it aches in his chest to see Luke sad, but Michael will never be upset about having Luke in his arms, no matter the reason.  
   
“I just. We used to do this, you know?” Luke’s fingers play absently in the fabric of Michael’s t-shirt. “In our old beds. So it makes me feel like I’m back there. You make me feel like … home.”  
   
“You make me feel like home too.” Michael remembers it all so clearly. He remembers Luke sneaking him into his house after everyone else had gone to bed. He remembers how tiny Luke was then. He’s growing, lately. Soon he’ll be taller than Michael. He remembers the way Luke’s shampoo smelled, the way he made Michael light up inside. He remembers getting caught by Luke’s brothers in the morning, the way they’d tease and Luke would blush.  
   
“You don’t kiss me anymore, lately.” Luke’s voice is small and sad.  
   
Michael remembers that too. He remembers the first time one of them got hard, and the first time they did anything about it. He remembers messy kisses that lasted for hours and fumbling hands, unsure of how to touch but wanting to make each other feel good. He remembers making himself stop when they started touring in Europe. They’re getting a bit famous now. He didn’t want Luke to regret it.  
   
“I thought you didn’t want me to anymore.”  
   
Luke swallows; Michael hears his throat click. He moves his head back an inch on the pillow so he can look up at Michael, with big, shiny, bright blue eyes. He looks so scared, and Michael wants to kiss him anyway just to take that expression off his face, even if it would ruin everything.  
   
“Why? Because of the band?”  
   
“I never cared about that,” Michael tells him. “I thought you did.”  
   
Luke shakes his head. He touches Michael’s bottom lip with tentative fingers.  
   
“Really?” Michael asks, cautiously optimistic. He’s loved Luke nearly every minute since they met.  
   
“I don’t … I don’t know if it’ll mess everything up.” Luke’s eyebrows furrow, and Michael reaches out and runs the backs of his knuckles over Luke’s cheek. Luke turns his face into the touch. “I just know you make me happy. I know that sometimes everything sucks, but it sucks a little less when I’m with you.”  
   
Michael’s heartbeat speeds up. Even still, he worries, “What about Cal and Ash?”  
   
“Can you just kiss him already so I can sleep?” Ashton mutters, purposely loud enough for Luke and Michael to hear.  
   
Luke’s cheeks bloom an impressively scarlet blush, and he hides in the pillow again. Michael laughs nervously, and takes his band-mate’s advice. He holds Luke’s face in one hand and presses their lips together, slow, sweet brushes that feel like the first time all over again. Luke makes a happy sound and scoots in a little bit closer, kissing Michael back eagerly.  
   
“Are you still sad?” Michael asks, into Luke’s mouth.  
   
“I still miss my family,” Luke answers. His hands find Michael’s waist and his fingers push underneath Michael’s shirt, petting along his sleep-warmed skin. “But you make me happy.”  
   
Michael can’t help the way that feels like fireworks in his stomach. “You make me happy too.”  
   
“So we can do this, again? Sometimes?” Luke sounds so shy and hopeful, it makes Michael’s chest ache again but in a good way this time.  
   
“Every night, if you want. From now until we’re dead.”  
   
Luke smiles, and looks 15 again. It wasn’t all that long ago, really, even though so many things have changed. Michael takes comfort in the fact that this, at least, hasn’t. Luke still fits like a puzzle piece in Michael’s arms.

**Author's Note:**

> [follow me on tumblr if you want!](http://paper-storm.tumblr.com/)


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